


Distance

by ancalime8301



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Challenge Response, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-27
Updated: 2009-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancalime8301/pseuds/ancalime8301
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hobbits must cover considerable distance to return home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wains of injured journey from the Black Gate to Ithilien.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [Marigold's Challenge 7](http://www.livejournal.com/~talechallenge07). Many thanks to Tangelian for brainstorming assistance, and to Frodo Baggins of Bag End (febobe) for a last-minute beta on this.

"I don't remember it being this far, do you?" Pippin asked with a sigh, surveying the slowly moving landscape mournfully.

"The distance has not changed, young hobbit," Gimli grumbled from around the stem of his unlit pipe.

The wain jostled over a bump and Pippin winced, then looked quickly over at the other two blanket-wrapped passengers lying, as he was, on the deep bed of blankets, pillows, and cot mattresses. Frodo and Sam did not stir, the only change being the clump of Frodo's curls that was now in his eyes. Pippin knew how much he hated that, even while sleeping, so he carefully leaned over on one unsteady elbow and gently brushed the lock from the pale forehead.

The hair looked dull and lifeless, much like his cousin, Pippin thought with chagrin. Frodo had not so much as twitched in the entire time since he'd been rescued, at least, not as far as Pippin knew, though he was missing a day or two from his reckoning. They all had hurts that needed to be healed, now, but he wondered if any hobbit could come back from being so cold and still.

He did not like seeing Frodo and Sam thus, did not like seeing all that they bore as told by their countless injuries, did not like seeing them when the question of life or death was undecided. Perhaps it would have been better for them to perish quickly in the ruin of the mountain, than to be rescued and die in prolonged agony... though death by burning was not a fate he would ever choose for anyone.

Another jolt nearly sent him sprawling atop Frodo, something he narrowly avoided, though his arms shook with the effort of keeping himself off his cousin. Then he felt broad, meaty hands on his shoulders and he was being guided back onto his stack of pillows. He relaxed against them with a sigh of relief, giving Gimli a nod of thanks. The dwarf grunted and waved it off.

As he settled back into the comfortable position for all his bumps and bruises, he noticed they had stopped moving. The appearance of Aragorn a few moments later confirmed that it was the hourly stop for medicines and any other necessary adjustments before the train of injured continued on its way. "How are you finding the journey, Master Took?" Aragorn asked teasingly as he leaned over the wagon's side and felt the hobbit's brow.

"Boring... and very slow," Pippin replied with typical candour. "Why are we going so slow?"

"For the sake of the injured, which would include you." Aragorn spoke from further along the wooden side as he checked on first Frodo, then Sam. "So the bumps don't seem as bad."

"They're bad enough," Pippin said sulkily. "Can't we just go fast and get it over with?"

Aragorn had rounded the end of the wagon, now reaching over the other side to feel the other hobbits' feet. "No. Moving slowly gives time to react and absorb the pain caused by the bumps. If we traveled any faster, the bumps would come too often for adjustment, leaving many of the more seriously wounded in a great deal of pain and distress."

"Oh." The explanation made a bit of sense, but he still wanted to be there, and be there yesterday. They'd said they were going to a place in that area of trees and bushes they'd passed on their way north -what was it called again? It would be nice to see something green again after all that dust and ash and smoke. And there wouldn't be any trolls.

Aragorn came back around the wagon, reaching into the baggage next to Gimli on the hard wooden floor, and pulled out a familiar -and much welcomed- bottle. "I believe it's time for your medicine?"

Pippin did not need to take stock of his current complaints to answer. "Yes." Though he was capable of holding the bottle himself, Aragorn held it for him and gently tipped the liquid into his waiting mouth. He gagged and choked but swallowed it down, knowing by now that the taste was more than redeemed by the relief it would bring.

"Better?" Aragorn asked as he put the bottle away.

"I will be. How soon will we get there? We've been traveling for days already."

"Late tonight if we keep going after dark, or by midday tomorrow."

"Will Merry be there?"

Aragorn exchanged a glance with Gimli; they'd had this exact conversation with the tween when he'd been awake that morning. Running a hand soothingly over Pippin's head, both to reassure him and to double-check his temperature, he replied, "Not yet. He'll be coming with the supplies from Minas Tirith."

Pippin continued dreamily as if Aragorn hadn't spoken at all. "He'll want to know about Frodo... and see him..."

"Yes, and I'm certain he'll want to see you as well, you silly Took," he said fondly.

"...and Sam..." his words were little more than a mumble.

Pippin was obviously succumbing to the effects of the painkiller, so the others didn't answer him anymore and watched him drift off to sleep. Then Aragorn turned to Gimli. "How has he been?"

"Restless, as usual."

Aragorn nodded briefly, eyes flickering back over the sleeping forms of the hobbits. "We will likely travel into the night. If he wakes, give him more of the medicine. Have you noticed any movement from Frodo or Sam?"

Gimli shook his head. "Nothing."

Aragorn sighed heavily. "I doubt they can feel anything right now, so it's probably for the best. Keep an eye on them, and if anything should change, have the driver give a shout." Gimli nodded, teeth still clenched on his pipe, and Aragorn smiled. "You're doing well, my friend," he said as he clapped the dwarf on the shoulder before returning to his horse.

The call went up and the creaking line of wains began moving again, slowly and steadily plodding to the promised place of rest and healing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry joins the army camped in Ithilien after the battle at the Black Gate.

Merry stared back at the ruined city they left behind. But they were moving so *slowly*! And he'd thought the wains carrying him and the supplies had plodded along... why couldn't they get the ship to go faster? He could paddle more quickly than this.

He left his post at the stern and stalked to the bow of the ship, easily ducking beneath the beams and rigging for the sails. He stood for a while in the prow, as if the sheer force of his will could speed them along. Still unsatisfied, he returned to the stern and watched the other ships slowly bobbing along behind.

He was about to pace the deck again when a hand on his shoulder halted him. "What troubles you, little Master?" asked one of the many men accompanying the supplies. From his armor he was of the Rohirrim, and his absence from the battle at the Black Gates was explained by a sling on his shield arm. Merry thought he vaguely recognized the man as one of Theoden's guard, but he wasn't certain.

Abruptly he realized the man was still waiting for an answer to his question. "I am anxious," he admitted. "Why do we not sail faster?"

The Rider glanced briefly at the flapping sails above their heads. "The wind has turned contrary, and the current moves against us." He paused, then asked curiously, "Why do you wish for haste? The battle has already been won."

"I know. I am anxious to know whether my friends yet live."

"Would you have been summoned had they not survived?"

"I do not know, and that has me concerned. The summons was unclear, so I know not if one or all of my folk are alive." He pulled the well-worn bit of parchment from inside his leather jerkin and fingered it thoughtfully. It had reached him last, after passing through countless hands that smudged the ink and made the single line referencing him almost illegible. It was mostly concerned with enumerating what should be sent, and his summons seemed almost an afterthought. Once a healer had pressed it into his hand, he'd spent quite a while attempting to make out that last word...

"What does it say?" the man gently prodded.

Merry unfolded the parchment, though reading it was unnecessary -he knew it by heart. "'Send the hobbit Meriadoc Brandybuck, also called Master Holdwine, to accompany the supplies as we are certain he will wish to see his...' -here is where I cannot make it out. The word is either kinsman or kinsmen, and I do not know which."

"But there is a large difference between the two," the soldier nodded in sympathy. They were interrupted when another Rider of Rohan approached and spoke in low tones to the other. He nodded shortly and the new man left again. "They are going to row until the wind shifts," he informed Merry, "and all are being called to man the oars."

"But your arm-" Merry began, knowing that one-handed rowing was awkward at best.

"I have one good arm," the man confidently replied as he turned to leave, then paused a moment. "I am sure your kin are well," he reassured Merry, then followed the other men on deck to the ladder leading below.

Merry felt less than useless, knowing full well he hadn't been asked to help because of his height. So he watched as the sailors furled up some of the larger sails, then scattered. He looked over the side of the boat -if he hopped up a little, he could perch on the edge of the railing and peer over- to see the oars emerge and drop into the water, beginning their dance in and out of the river. When his ribs started to protest his perch, he slid down and again looked back at the other ships, which had also brought out the oars.

He noted with satisfaction that the riverbank was passing a bit more quickly now, but he still longed for more speed. In an effort to distract himself from his worry, he set his mind to figuring out where they kept the oars. He'd been below before they'd embarked, and the deck below where he stood was crammed full of food, bandages, and whatever else had been requested, so they couldn't possibly be rowing from there. But he'd thought that was the only deck... the ships weren't very tall, so if there was another deck it must be very cramped.

~~~~

The wind did not shift favorably until the wee hours of morning, much to the dismay of the weary men -and halfling- aboard. Merry spent the entire time pacing the length of the ship, occasionally pausing to watch the ships behind or stare morosely at the slowly passing bank. Though he was repeatedly urged to sit down, to rest, to sleep, he did not concede and vowed to remain awake until he knew the fate of the others. Besides, he doubted the knot that had taken up residence in his stomach would allow him to sleep anyway.

At long last, and not long after dawn, they came within sight of some men standing on the bank near a break in the trees, waving at them. Merry had to rub his blurry eyes to be sure the soldiers were not figments of his imagination, but when some of the others began to yell greetings he knew they must be real. As the boat drew closer, he strained his eyes to see if perhaps Pippin awaited him, but all the figures seemed too tall. He sighed in frustration as all his worries crowded ever closer to the surface of his mind, and he tried to reassure himself that the summons was indeed plural. But not for the first time he wondered if it was only a foolish hope.

The docking of the ship seemed to take forever, but really his feet were again on solid ground before second breakfast. The men began efficiently unloading the ship and loading supplies onto awaiting carts, discussing all the while that their arrival had been expected hours ago. Merry listened to the conversation with half an ear as he tried to make his legs work properly.

A voice from above and behind him and a hand on his shoulder startled him from his reverie. "Merry, come. I will take you to the camp."

"Legolas!" Now that he saw the elf again, he realized how pleased he was to see him still alive. Further thought was cut off when he was lifted to the back of Arod and Legolas mounted behind him, already urging the horse forward as he settled. Merry's stomach once again rose to his throat as the silence between them grew, only disturbed by the horse's hoofbeats thudding dully on the long grass.

"H-how far is it?" he asked at last, not able to bring himself to ask the other question.

"It is not far," Legolas answered smoothly.

"How are they?" he burst out after a few more interminable minutes. He couldn't hold it back any longer, not caring if Legolas heard the desperation in his voice.

But Legolas seemed to understand. "They are alive."

The utter relief washed through him, though some concern still nagged at the back of his mind. But it was pushed aside when they abruptly came upon the edge of a camp and Legolas pulled the horse to a halt beside a tent. The elf slid down and helped him off. "Legolas, you say they are alive, but-"

"Ah, Master Brandybuck!" Gimli greeted him jovially from the doorway of the tent he and Legolas were approaching, cutting off his tentative question. The dwarf continued, "Master Took is still asleep, but he will be overjoyed to learn you've arrived. He's been asking about you."

Merry hesitated a moment, abruptly and inexplicably afraid. He sternly reprimanded himself and forced himself to step through the entrance Gimli held open for him. Once his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, he froze, gaping at the scene before him. Pippin was sleeping peacefully, that much was true, but he looked truly awful, with bruises and bandages everywhere. Looking at his poor, dear cousin, much too young to be here, much less so battered by battle, Merry felt an oliphaunt had stepped on his chest and driven even the mere thought of breathing from him. Dimly he felt hands on his shoulders, providing silent support, and he consciously drew a deep breath to whisper, "What happened?"

"He thought himself equal to a troll," Gimli answered, and Merry thought he detected a hint of fondness in the dwarf's tone.

"Will he be all right?" Merry heard himself ask.

"I would be better if conversations weren't going on while I am trying to sleep," a familiar voice said groggily. Merry was beside the bed in an instant, though later he would confess he couldn't remember moving at all. "Hullo, Merry," Pippin greeted him cheerfully.

"Hullo, Pip," Merry choked out as he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned forward to gingerly embrace his cousin. Pippin awkwardly hugged him back, and they remained thus for several moments while Merry composed himself. When he sat up again, he teased, "Silly Took, don't you know that trolls are bigger than hobbits?"

They chattered in lighthearted hobbit fashion for some time, exchanging news of the happenings since they were separated in Minas Tirith. Merry noticed that Pippin grew fidgety and nervous as they talked, and he wondered what was bothering him so. Finally Pippin said nervously, "Have you seen Frodo and Sam yet?" Merry shook his head no. Pippin paled, then looked grim, an expression that Merry wouldn't have thought possible on the irrepressible tweenager's face.

"Legolas said they're alive," Merry ventured hesitantly, all his previous concern once again twisting his stomach.

Pippin nodded slowly while he seemed to search for the right words. "They are alive," he conceded, "and Aragorn says they should be all right."

Merry knew there was more Pippin wanted to say, but something held him back. "But..." he prompted, and his encouragement opened the floodgates.

"But they haven't woken up! They... they don't do anything, even when I tried to talk to them. I talked for a long time, all the way back from the Gates! They look dead, Merry! It's worse even than Rivendell." Pippin was shaking and looked so miserable that Merry again embraced him, shushing him soothingly, even as he began to realize how much Pippin had endured. And he wondered what sort of sight awaited him if it was worse than Rivendell... He must see them, to comfort Pippin in sharing his knowledge, but also because he longed to see his cousin and Sam, no matter the circumstance. When Pippin calmed down a bit, Merry said, "I will go see them now, then I will come back, all right?"

Pippin nodded and said, "There should be someone outside who can take you there."

When Merry stepped out of the tent, he found Legolas and Gimli sitting in companionable silence on the ground beside the doorway. Both looked up at his approach, and before he could speak, Legolas anticipated his request. "You wish to see Frodo and Sam." Merry nodded numbly. "Come, I will take you to them," he said as he stood. Gimli also stood, and disappeared into the tent.

Legolas led him on a weaving path past more tents and some cooking fires until they came to a place where two soldiers guarded the narrow entrance to a secluded bower of beeches. The guards did not move as they came near; Merry assumed the men knew to allow the elf and the halfling to pass, though he wondered what would happen should anyone else approach. Legolas halted just before the guards and crouched in front of him. "Would you prefer to go alone or have company?"

"A-alone, please," Merry answered faintly.

Legolas nodded. "I will remain here."

Merry took a deep breath. One... two... three steps, and he was past the guards. Four... five... six steps and he could see the ends of two cots and he had to force himself to breathe. Seven... eight... He stopped and stared.

~~~~

The King was trying to reassure a rather distraught Pippin when Merry finally returned. Pippin also noticed his cousin's entrance and immediately began babbling in a hurried rush. "What took you so long? I was worried..."

Merry did not answer, coming into the tent as one in a daze. Without a word he dropped to his knees beside Pippin's bed and buried his face in his arms upon the blankets. Aragorn couldn't tell if the hobbit was weeping; regardless, Pippin was running his fingers through his cousin's hair and murmuring comfortingly to him.

When Merry finally raised his head, he was pale and his hands were shaking. "They will be all right?" he asked, his voice as even as he could make it.

Aragorn nodded slowly. "Yes, they should be. It will take some time to heal the strain on their minds and bodies, but they should fully recover."

"And if they don't?"

"If that is the case, we shall do what we can for them." He paused. "But I have dealt enough with hobbits to know their ability to recover from injury cannot be underestimated. They will recover." He rose from the chair. "I must look in on the other injured. Pippin, remember what I told you about not getting out of bed. And Merry," he turned to see the hobbit stifle a yawn, "when did you sleep last?"

Merry blinked up at him, pondering. "Two days ago, I think," he admitted slowly.

"A bed will be made for you, and I expect you to use it. You are still healing, yourself," the King chided.

Merry looked down guiltily. His arm *was* feeling colder this morning, but he couldn't help worrying about the others...

"Breakfast should be arriving shortly," Aragorn added. "I will return later to check on you both." The flap fell shut behind him, and the hobbits were alone.

~~~~

The days following passed slowly as Merry spent most of his time entertaining Pippin, who was still forbidden from leaving bed and was usually cranky because he refused to take much of the pain draught since it made him sleepy, and occasionally checking on Frodo and Sam. He managed to persuade Aragorn to let him watch while the bandages were changed, so he could see everything. He wanted to understand what they'd endured so he could help them as much as possible when they woke. If they woke.

Thus, he observed one afternoon as Frodo and Sam were bathed, and every single bandage was carefully removed and replaced. For many of the injuries, Merry could guess their origin -cuts and burns on feet, knees, and hands from the wrath of the mountain; that terrible mark 'round Frodo's neck from the Ring's chain- but for some, he did not want to guess, like the weal on Frodo's side, Frodo's missing finger, or that gash on Sam's head.

Once the healers and their assistants cleaned up and left, Merry sat on a chair between the beds and gently held Frodo's undamaged hand. His intent gaze searched Frodo's face for any sign of life, any flicker of emotion, but found nothing in the blank countenance, and its greyish paleness served only to unsettle him. How could Aragorn be so certain Frodo would live?

At length, Merry decided he should return to Pippin -the tweenager had been surly that morning and had probably worked himself into quite a mood, and Merry was one of the few who could mollify him- but stopped short as he glanced one last time at the bed.

Frodo was staring at him, or rather, through him. Merry returned the unblinking gaze, not daring to move a muscle while his cousin's eerie, empty eyes were upon him, though he doubted Frodo actually saw anything. A single tear slipped down the pallid cheek, and Merry did the only thing he could: he carefully wiped the tear away. Frodo closed his eyes in response to the touch and relaxed against his pile of pillows with a barely perceptible sigh.

He seemed to breathe easier, and Merry thought it ironic that a simple touch could do what the many pillows could not. He'd asked Aragorn about them once, and was told it was to help Frodo -and Sam, too, for he had a similar pile- breathe by keeping him nearly upright while his lungs healed from inhaling the noxious fumes of the Black Land. Now, while Merry had complete trust in Aragorn's healing skills, he wondered if the Man wasn't overlooking something important.

So he sat on the edge of the bed -something he'd not dared before, for fear of hurting Frodo- holding Frodo's hand in one hand while keeping the other on Frodo's face, stroking it soothingly until his arm grew tired. He was still seated on the bed, staring intently at Frodo, when Gandalf entered a while later. The wizard silently stood behind the hobbit, a comforting hand on his shoulder. "He opened his eyes," Merry said, his gaze not straying from Frodo. "He stared straight at me, but I don't think he really saw me." He halted uncertainly.

"It is unlikely," Gandalf agreed. "He and Sam have been put into a very deep healing sleep. But he does recognize your touch, I deem. He is more at peace now than I had seen him up until this point." The wizard continued almost musingly, "Yes, your coming was good for him."

Merry turned to look at him then. "But Pippin depends on me being near, as well. How do I choose between them?"

"You can visit them both, my dear hobbit," Gandalf said fondly, squeezing his shoulder, then patting it reassuringly. "But for now, I think you need to look to yourself and have a meal, lest you land in bed and need company yourself."

Indeed, Merry had to admit he had grown rather hungry. But still . . .

Gandalf sensed his hesitation. "I will sit with Frodo for a spell, and Gimli and Legolas are entertaining your young cousin, so you need not fret. They both are well cared for."

Merry left reluctantly, hesitating once past the guards as he debated what to do. At length he decided to get some food and take it with him to Pippin's tent -well, their tent, but since Pip was stuck there, he considered it Pippin's tent- so he could eat and pacify his cousin at the same time.

He nearly dropped his plate and mug when he went into the Pippin's tent and found Pippin out of bed and on his feet. On his feet and being supported by Legolas and Gimli, it was true, but on his feet nonetheless. "Pip!" Merry exclaimed. "Does Aragorn know you're up?"

"We would not be assisting him if he did not have Aragorn's blessing," Legolas assured him.

"I told him I wanted to go see Frodo on my own two legs," Pippin said breathlessly, shaking his left arm free of Legolas' grasp. "He said I could try getting out of bed with help, but not to expect to be able to get far yet. And I think he's been spending too much time around Gandalf -he called me a fool of a Took. But that's fine, because I can get out of bed now," he enthused, pulling his other arm from Gimli's hold. "I think I'm doing just fine, thank you very much."

"You haven't tried going anywhere yet," Merry observed. "You're just standing next to the bed."

Pippin folded his arms and pouted. "Well, if you're going to be a stick-in-the-mud, you don't have to stay."

Merry tried to mollify him. "Pip, I didn't mean it like that-"

"I know! Where did your sense of humor go?" Pip teased him. "Put that stuff down -I'm coming over, and you may have to catch me."

Merry hurriedly put his food down on the ground a short distance away, then went back to his spot near the tent flap. Pippin slowly, and with great concentration, wobbled his way across the several paces from the bed to Merry. Merry watched anxiously, but Pippin didn't stumble. When Pippin was standing before him, panting slightly but otherwise unscathed, Merry hugged him tightly. "You're a silly hobbit, and I love you for it," he said fondly.

"You're being soppy, but I love you anyway," Pippin said impishly. "Ooh, is that food?" he asked, spying the plate Merry had set on the ground.

"That's my dinner, and you're not getting any. I'm sure you were already given your dinner."

"Well, yes, but I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry. Now, are you going to stop leaning on me and go back to bed, or do I need to drag you there?"

"If you wanted to be rid of me, why didn't you say so? I know to leave when I'm not wanted," Pippin said with mock hurt.

"You know you ought to be going back to bed, I'm just reminding you," Merry countered, and watched with satisfaction as Pippin was able to cross the return distance a little more confidently. He picked up his food and settled in his chair while Gimli and Legolas helped Pippin get settled comfortably.

"Do you think Aragorn will let me go see Frodo and Sam tomorrow?" Pippin asked eagerly.

"It's a lot farther than from your bed to the door, Pip," Merry told him. "You may need to work up to that kind of distance."

Pippin frowned. "The day after, then?"

Merry laughed. "I don't know, perhaps you can persuade him."

Pippin watched with envy as Merry ate. "Are you sure you won't give me even a little bit?"

"I haven't had anything since lunch. Let me eat this, and maybe I'll go get you something."

"No need," said Legolas, who had slipped out without the hobbits noticing and now returned with Aragorn and some food for Pippin. "I took the liberty of fetching your . . . supper, is it?"

Pippin eagerly took the plate. "After dinner comes supper, yes. Thank you."

"Legolas tells me you were up and about a little while ago," Aragorn said as Pippin started gulping the meat and potatoes and vegetables.

Pippin nodded vigorously. "I walked to the tent flap and back. Can I go see Frodo and Sam tomorrow?"

"I already told him it's pretty far from here to there," Merry added.

"I doubt you would be ready to walk that distance tomorrow," Aragorn said thoughtfully.

"But-"

"Perhaps the day after, if you behave yourself and take it slow in the meantime," Aragorn finished. "You will need to walk outside for a time tomorrow, as well. If you agree to be carried back from Frodo's tent, I think it likely that I will allow you to go the day after tomorrow."

Pippin beamed. "I'll behave, I promise!" He thought he heard Merry mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'I'll believe it when I see it,' but when he glared at his cousin, Merry looked back at him innocently.

And Pippin was indeed on his best behavior. His stroll outside caused quite a stir in the camp as many of the Men crowded around to see one of the small heroes of this last battle, since he was the first of the three to make an appearance. Pippin was happy to talk to them and tell them about his injuries, though Merry stopped him short of lifting his shirt to show off his bruises.

When they finally got back to the tent, Pippin had to lie down for a while and even dropped off into a brief nap, though he denied he was ever asleep when Merry teased him about it. He might tease Pippin, but Merry was overjoyed to see his cousin doing so well after looking so dreadful mere days before. It gave him a glimmer of hope for Frodo, who was as still and grey as ever when he went to see him that morning.

Aragorn was pleased with the report of Pippin's walk, though he was not present to witness it. Merry wondered where Aragorn was spending so much time since he wasn't with the hobbits nearly as much as he said he wished he could be, but did not feel it appropriate to ask. He had a feeling it had something to do with Aragorn's new role as the presumptive King, and knew that kings did not explain themselves to others unless they wanted or needed to.

Merry finally asked Gandalf that evening, when the wizard came to see Merry and Pippin before they went to sleep. "Your intuition was correct; his absences have much to do with decisions that must be made. At this moment, his primary concerns are planning the return to Minas Tirith and the celebration when Frodo and Sam awaken."

"Celebration?"

"Aragorn desires to honor them before this host when they are awake to see it."

"That's a lovely thought," Pippin said. "Will there be a feast?"

Gandalf chuckled. "Yes, my hungry hobbit, there will be a feast."

"But how can you plan a feast when you don't even know when they'll wake up?" Merry asked.

"All preparations short of preparing the food can be done without knowing the exact day or time," Gandalf replied. "What food is available at that point will necessarily dictate what can be prepared for the feast, but everything else is not specific to a particular time."

"I suppose," Merry said doubtfully. It was hobbit practice to plan everything around what dishes would be served, not the other way around! "How will you know when they will wake up?"

"Aragorn and I are able to discern how close they are to consciousness. It will be reasonably straightforward to tell when they begin to awaken from the sleep Aragorn has put them in."

"Do you know yet when it might be?"

"No. It could be a few days, it could be another week. It is only when they are relatively close that I am able to sense it. Aragorn can delve more deeply, but it takes more strength and effort than it is worth just to know a day or two sooner if Frodo and Sam are near to waking."

"But it will probably be a week or less until we can talk to them?" Pippin asked.

"Yes, we will rouse them if they have not woken within a week."

"How is Aragorn going to honor them?" Merry asked curiously.

"He has chosen not to share all of the details with me. I know my part, and that is enough."

"What is your part?"

"To be with Frodo and Sam when they wake, have them eat and dress, and lead them to the clearing just beyond the camp."

"What are we to do?" Pippin asked eagerly.

"I think we ought to stay out of sight until after Aragorn has honored them," Merry said musingly. "Frodo and Sam both won't accept any praise given to them unless they're the only ones there to receive it. If we're with them, they'll let us have all of the attention." He stopped talking when he realized Gandalf was smiling at him. "What?"

"You have grown wise, Meriadoc Brandybuck. Yes, your role is to serve in whatever capacity your lords set forth for you, and I believe Aragorn and Eomer have agreed that you may watch the ceremony from a distance and wait to reveal yourselves until the feast."

"But what if Frodo is worried and asks about us?" Pippin asked with concern. "He can fret with the best of them, and Sam would fret about Frodo fretting."

"If he asks, I will tell him you both are alive and well," Gandalf said with a chuckle. "That's enough questions for now -it is well past time that both of you should be resting." He rose from the chair beside Pippin's bed and looked at them both, Merry in his bed on the other side of Pippin's. "Sleep well."

"Good night," Merry and Pippin chorused as Gandalf blew out the single lit lamp and left the tent. Silence reigned, for neither one had anything to say, being wrapped in his own thoughts until sleep took over.

~~~~

When Merry woke, something felt different. The noises of the camp outside were the same as ever, but there seemed to be excitement in the voices, more briskness in the movements, and he sat up in wonderment. Pippin looked at him and whispered, "I think something's happened."

Merry threw back his blankets and rose. "I'll go find out what it is. Stay here, Pip."

He didn't have to go far; Gimli was sitting right outside the tent, puffing on his pipe. "Is young Pippin awake as well?" When Merry nodded, Gimli stood up and said, "Then I'll tell you both," and gestured for Merry to go back inside. He did, and Pippin looked at him and Gimli curiously.

"Frodo woke earlier this morning, and Aragorn says Sam will waken by midday," Gimli informed them.

Merry thought his grin would split his face. "What happens now?"

"The Men are to dress in their livery and assemble in the clearing an hour past noon. You are also to dress, and you and Legolas and I are to join the host in an inconspicuous spot. When the crowd disperses for the feast, you will report to Aragorn and Eomer and they will provide instruction for the rest of the evening."

"We have to wait until after lunch before anything happens?" Pippin asked with distress.

"I'm afraid so, young hobbit. It will sorely try your patience, I know. Would some breakfast help?" Gimli said solicitously.

"Yes," Pippin replied promptly.

Gimli chortled. "I thought so. I will return with food enough to delight your senses and perhaps even hold you over until second breakfast," he said with a wink.

Once Gimli left, Merry turned to Pippin, and they hugged one another in delight. Even several hours' wait would be worthwhile to finally see Frodo and Sam up and about. As promised, Gimli brought heaps of food, but Merry found he was almost too anxious to eat. Pippin was more than happy to take more than his fair share, and Merry let him.

It wasn't that Merry doubted Frodo and Sam would be all right -Aragorn said they would, and Merry had never had reason to doubt Aragorn's word- but he wondered what kind of changes there might be and how Frodo would react to the changes in him and Pippin. They were several inches taller than before, after all, and they both had seen horrible things. What horrible things had Frodo and Sam seen? Their bodies would heal, but would they still be almost the same hobbits as before? For them to be exactly the same wasn't possible, for Merry had seen changes in Frodo even before they parted, but perhaps that was just the Ring?

The anticipation made Pippin restless, as well, despite the prompt arrival of food every couple of hours. Merry was sure Gimli was nearly ready to throttle them both by the time noon arrived and they could begin dressing. More news passed to them shortly thereafter that both periannath were awake, and Merry and Pippin shared a grin. Pippin could hardly hold still in his excitement, which made it difficult for Merry to help him with some of the clasps and ties that Pippin was too stiff to reach. Merry had to threaten to dump him, armor and all, into the Anduin before Pippin took the threats to heart and actually tried to stand still.

Merry, Pippin, Legolas, and Gimli walked to the clearing with what seemed a horde of Men whose clean faces and buffed armor displayed their eagerness to look their best for the two heroic halflings. Legolas helped them find a place where they would not be crushed and still able to see what was going on without being seen by Frodo and Sam, and they waited. The anticipation in the clearing rose as the Men filed in, lining up in their ranks and companies, leaving an aisle up the middle for the honorees.

When Aragorn stepped out of the trees and sat on the middle of the three thrones fashioned from green sod blocks, a hush fell over the crowd, and everyone turned to watch and wait. Merry and Pippin craned their necks, and soon spied a glimmer of white moving towards the clearing through the trees -that must be Gandalf. Then a great noise rose up, voices and horns and trumpets crying out in praise.

Not being able to see Frodo and Sam clearly from his position, Merry listened to the words being shouted that he could understand, for there were also words in other tongues. 'Praise them!' 'Long live the Halflings!' 'Praise them with great praise!' 'The Ring-bearers, praise them with great praise!' Tears sprang to his eyes as he was overcome with pride and happiness, and he shouted louder than any of them.

When Aragorn rose from his seat, the clamor died down, and when Aragorn bowed his knee to the hobbits who had run up to meet him, the entire host bowed as well. Frodo and Sam were placed on the throne, and Aragorn cried, "Praise them with great praise!" The Men gladly resumed their shouting, and Merry thought he saw Pippin crying, too. Now that Frodo and Sam were up a little higher and many of the men were still on their knees in respect, Merry could see them, thin and blushing, clad in ragged garments that must be what they were wearing when they were rescued. His joy overwhelmed and choked him so he could only smile wider than ever before.

The Men quieted, and a minstrel begged leave to sing. All listened intently, overcome with joy and pain and delight as the story of Frodo's journey was told. For some time they remained, spellbound, until the song ended and the shadows of the trees had lengthened. Frodo and Sam were led away by Gandalf, and everyone else dispersed to the pavilions where food and drink were ready and where they could be merry while the day lasted. Merry and Pippin attended Eomer and Aragorn as those at the King's table awaited the guests of honor, and they were sent to fetch wine.

When they returned to the table, Sam noticed them and exclaimed in surprise at their height and livery. Pippin answered him, but Merry could only drink up the sight of them, smiling and laughing, dressed now in simple, clean clothes, with color in their cheeks. Frodo seemed more at ease now -Merry liked to think he'd been wondering where his cousins were- and Merry was glad.

The feast went on for some time, all present relishing the opportunity to celebrate all that had gone right in their struggle, and it was late before the hobbits could gather in a small grove to be alone with each other and greet one another properly. They talked of what had befallen them since the parting at Parth Galen, skirting over the darkest tales with unanimous unspoken agreement that those had no place on this day of joy. Gandalf sat with them, and Legolas and Gimli joined them after a time, so Frodo and Sam began to piece together some of the bits of what had happened to the others.

At length Gandalf interrupted their tales. "The hands of the King are hands of healing, dear friends, but it is time to sleep again. For all of you," he said pointedly, looking at Pippin and Merry.

"May we sleep in their tent tonight, Gandalf?" Pippin asked beseechingly. "Now that we're all together again, it seems a shame to sleep in two different places."

"So long as you sleep and don't talk late into the night, I do not have an objection to that arrangement," Gandalf said kindly, seeing the gratitude in all four hobbits' eyes.

"Legolas and I can move their beds," Gimli volunteered, rising from his seat on the ground. He and Legolas disappeared into the darkness.

"We should gather our things, as well," Merry said to Pippin, and they rose as well. "We'll meet you in your tent, cousin." Frodo nodded.

When Merry and Pippin arrived with their meagre belongings, Frodo and Sam were already dressed for bed. The space was slightly cramped with four beds, but even the small spaces between them seemed cavernous compared to how closely together they often slept while on their journey. Merry changed quickly, then helped Pippin, and Frodo exclaimed over Pippin's still-healing injuries. "Gimli told us about you and the troll," Frodo told Pippin, "but I couldn't imagine what it might have done to you. And what about you, Merry? Gandalf wouldn't say why you weren't here for this battle, just that it had to do with your arm."

Merry unconsciously flexed and clenched his right hand at Frodo's question. "I . . . I fought in the battle at Minas Tirith," he said slowly.

"He helped kill the Witch-King!" Pippin supplied when Merry seemed reluctant to continue. "He stabbed it and hurt his arm and he got all dazed and cold, kind of like you did after Weathertop."

"Oh, Merry," Frodo said softly, touching his cheek, then embracing him tightly. Merry hugged him in return, rubbing his back and trying to ignore the fact that he could clearly feel Frodo's ribs.

Pippin abruptly yawned loudly, and Frodo jumped. "Sorry," Pippin said sheepishly.

"It's all right, you can't help it," Merry assured him. "But that does mean we all should listen to Gandalf and get some sleep."

Sam nodded in agreement. "For all the sleep we've gotten, I'm that tired."

But Frodo hesitated. "Do we have to sleep so far apart?" he asked plaintively. "I'd feel better if all of you were closer."

Merry frowned. "The beds won't get very much closer together. It would be easiest to put all the mattresses on the floor in a row."

"Could we do that, then?"

"Give me a few minutes, and I can rearrange things," Merry said confidently.

He decided to lay the mattresses between Frodo's and Sam's beds, and push them further apart to make room. He left the chair that was between the beds, just shoving it closer to the wall of the tent. There was plenty of room for all four hobbits, and they probably wouldn't even need to use all of the mattresses, since they were large enough for Men's use. Sam helped him pull the mattresses from the other two beds and lay them atop the first two to make a thicker cushion between fragile bodies and the hard ground.

Merry insisted that Frodo and Sam climb up first and take the middle, while he and Pippin would take the outside edges, with Pippin next to Frodo and Merry next to Sam. It was a good arrangement, snug in the right ways without being too crowded, and sleep came easily to most of them. Merry, however, remained awake, staring sightlessly at the roof, relishing the sound of even breathing beside him.

When sleep remained far from him, Merry rose and curled up with his blanket in the chair that overlooked their makeshift bed. If he wasn't going to sleep, he would let himself drink his fill of seeing his kin finally restored to him -even Sam felt like kin now, with all he had endured with Frodo and for Frodo's sake. They were all battered and bruised by their experiences, but they had come through alive, and, having made it this far, they would undoubtedly make it home.

Merry finally fell asleep, content in the knowledge that everything would be all right.


End file.
